ndira Gandhi International – named after India’s first ever female Prime Minister – is the largest airport in India, and has doubled in size since 2007. Twenty-seven million passengers pass through on their way in, out and through the country every single year.

As I have my passport and visa checked, collect my luggage and walk out into the arrivals terminal, it looks like they may have all decided to pass through at this precise moment.

The building is crammed.

Stuffed with people of every description, age and possible nationality. Businessmen, backpackers, tourists, locals; children, teenagers, old people; babies, men, women.

All chatting and jostling for space or sitting on suitcases and leaning against the shiny white walls of an incredibly glossy hall.

I blink anxiously around the room.

How is anyone possibly going to find me here? There’s just no way that in this total chaos and noise, they’re going to be able to—

My phone starts ringing.

Oh. I suppose there’s that.

“Hello?”

“Is that Harriet?” a woman says with a very faint Indian accent. “My name is Deepika. I’ll be coordinating your entire trip in India so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Oh thank God.

Obviously, I really enjoy being independent and mature and at the top of the organising tree, but I also enjoy not getting lost in the middle of the second most populated country on the planet (experts believe it’ll overtake China in 2023).

“Hi Deepika,” I say warmly. “Thank you so much. I’m really, really happy to be here.”

Too happy, possibly.

Now I’m not stranded indefinitely in a crowded foreign airport, I’m so excited, I’m struggling to stay physically still.

My Dance of Triumph is about to break out, unedited and uncontrolled: I can feel it.

With a subtle wiggle, I look up at the huge sculpture hanging over my head. It’s incredibly beautiful: enormous gold copper coins with brass three-dimensional hands emerge from the middle in a variety of graceful gestures.

I’m sure it must mean something culturally important and artistically significant.

I can’t wait to find out what.

“Understandably,” Deepika continues as I do a merry shoulder shimmy, “we’d like to get moving as fast as possible. As you may have noticed, it’s extremely busy in India at the moment and time is of the essence.”

“Absolutely,” I nod, exuberantly waggling my bottom. “Where shall we meet? Is there a car outside? Shall I come and find you?”

Then – excitement getting a little too much for me – I hop from side to side a few times and jerk my head like a pigeon. Then I waggle my arms slightly and blow a raspberry, just for good measure.

Finally, I end my tiny impromptu I Can’t Believe I’m Actually In India Right Now dance with a leap and a quick spin round.

The final Yessss dies on my lips.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Deepika smiles, hanging up her phone. “I’m standing directly in front of you.”